


Cold Shoulder

by sharkie



Series: alterity [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2018, Lesbian Characters, References to past slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-14 06:53:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13584642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie/pseuds/sharkie
Summary: In the third year of Zakuul's conquest, the fledgling Alliance dangles the prospect of liberation for alien species in order to attract recruits. Let's see how that goes!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this hastily because fuck February for being the shortest month and the one that starts with an 'f' 
> 
> I've fallen behind on my knowledge of Twi'lek canon. Besides in-game material, I'm just writing based on Wookieepedia, stray Legends comic panels, old fansites, and the vague sense of what I wished I'd seen in Star Wars media since I was nine and naturally identified with Aayla Secura.
> 
> the timeline is ambiguous, since I don't follow the canon timeline. hover over Twi'leki words for translations
> 
> It's been a while since I've posted in this fandom, thanks for reading <3

There's a saying: the hyperlane to the Corellian hells is traversed by manipulating hypermatter particles of good intentions.  

It's not a terribly common saying. 

From the Alliance's inception, its brakes had been broken and nobody was really at the helm. The Alliance was a covert organisation formed by socially awkward, politically disowned humans on behalf of aliens presumed to be dead. Even they knew that it would be unwise and unethical for them to approach the Hutt Cartel and big corporations for help, as much as they hated the Eternal Empire. 

So they set their sights elsewhere: on the outcast and downtrodden, people who had been failed by society long before Zakuul. Obviously their future leaders would approve, considering their backgrounds. The Alliance began canvassing on the streets of Hutt-run worlds. They reached out to revolutionary groups on independent planets; planets abandoning the Republic; planets taking advantage of the chaos to fight Imperial or Hutt occupation. Results were mixed. After the first wave of efforts, there was one long-subjugated planet in particular that captured their propaganda department's attention...

* * *

Originally, the White Maw had consisted of separate, occasionally rival factions. In the first year of the Eternal Fleet’s campaign of terror, they were one of the few pirate gangs that hadn’t paid off Zakuul, nor had they joined the people rising to challenge it. 

At the start of the core world blockades, Alilia’s faction contacted the cut-off Republic and Imperial outposts, and a secret Chiss Expansionary base that claimed to operate in the Empire's interest. They'd united to defeat the rival White Maw factions, killing or absorbing them until only Alilia’s remained. Eventually the Imperial and Republic troops had been extracted. For a year, the reformed White Maw dominated Hoth.

Then the Eternal Fleet had deployed a Star Fortress over the planet. They'd lost hundreds of people in the evacuation, but Trick’s cloaking ability helped the White Maw and Chiss forces escape. Alilia decided to relocate the White Maw's base of operations to Ilum - the climate was similar to Hoth’s, so their training and equipment wouldn’t go to waste. There, fighting between the Imperial and Republic forces had ground to a standstill. They'd abandoned fortresses, hastening to withdraw their troops and mysterious supplies. They'd also left caves mid-excavation. 

Long story short, the White Maw began harvesting Adegan crystals and smuggling them to the Alliance for an exorbitant price. They weren't formal allies. Should another party learn about their operation and offer more credits, Alilia would take the deal. 

Luckily, the Alliance had a powerful bargaining tool.

“Hi, Anspi’shel,” said Vette, rolling the _l_ as she swivelled her chair around to fully face the holoterminal. “Looking good! New lekku buffer?”

Anspi’shel propped her heels on her own holoterminal. “Can’t buff my lekku. Too sensitive.”

“What a shame.” Vette discreetly scooted her chair closer. “You up for sticking it to the man?”

“Aren’t we always?” Anspi'shel crossed her ankles, lekku twitching. 

They discussed The Usual Topic for a while. Months ago, Anspi'shel had abandoned any pretense of detachment; she listened in such solemn silence that Vette repeatedly checked that she hadn't fallen asleep. Then Vette placed roughly the usual order. 

“That comes out to about...” Anspi’shel examined her fingernails. “...400,000 credits.”

“370,000,” said Vette.

“390,000.”

“375,000.”

“385,000.”

“380,000.”

“ _385,000_.”

“385,000.”

“380,000, and that’s our final offer,” Anspi’shel snapped.

“Can do,” Vette chirped. “Toodles!”

“Catch you later. What?” Anspi’shel asked, upon noticing Alilia standing in the doorway and shaking her head.

Vette’s holoimage dissolved as Alilia approached. Alilia had been wearing her lekku tighter around her neck these days, to better conceal their movement - from _whom,_  Anspi’shel couldn’t say. By now, the senior gang members might’ve developed an inkling of what common lekku twitches meant. But Anspi’shel was the only person who could definitely read them. [1]  

“I suppose it doesn’t make much of a difference.” Alilia gently tapped the side of Anspi’shel’s head, near the base of her _tchin,_ making it pulse with excitement. Alilia's expression hardened. “But I still think they’re shortchanging us.”

Stars, but Anspi'shel adored her voice more and more each day - it was the aural equivalent of being smothered beneath a tonne of feathers. Grinning toothily, Anspi’shel broached the topic that'd been increasingly dominating daily discussions as surely as the Eternal Fleet spread:

“We could just...you know, join. Set a price, get paid regularly.”

Alilia’s lips curled in distaste. “I don’t trust the 'caretaker'.”

“Sith?”

“ _Human._ Imperial, too. The worst kind.”

“I hear she dated an alien.”

“Chiss. Doesn’t count.” Alilia took a step back, gaze darkening. “Who’s she really building this Alliance for? The Chiss lady or Darth Imperius?”

“Does it matter if it’s Imperius?” Anspi’shel countered. “Now, _that’s_ a Sith. And an Imperial. Kinda.”

“Flygirl, I’m not about to jump headfirst into a half-full swimming pool.”

“I miss swimming pools,” said Anspi’shel, wistfully. “With warm, clean water. And rubber ducks - ”

“Those are bathtubs.”

“I don’t actually know what a duck is.”

“I’ve gotta put Trick to sleep.” Alilia threw her head back, laughing, and walked to the exit. “Review the conversation log, maybe.”

Anspi’shel scrambled to rise and closed the distance between them, body undulating in a sway that could be charitably described as a saunter. Alilia paused, eyes dropping to Anspi'shel's sensuously parted lips. Then she spun on her heel and let the door slide shut behind her. There was a traditional art of seduction Anspi'shel had heard about,  _kuri'au,_ known as 'The Game' in Basic. She was unclear on specific details, but it couldn't possibly be as fun as the unspoken version between them. 

* * *

_At least one thing was certain: this was not Tatooine._

_It was karking freezing, even shielded as Anspi'shel was by her thick jacket and the insulated shell of the durasteel crate she'd packed herself into several hours ago. Said crate was stuffy and cramped - but not, like, "callously sell out an ex who saved my worthless life"-stuffy and cramped._

_She was considering her next step when a crack of light appeared in the front of the crate. Followed by another. And another. With accompanying voices and shuffling sounds. Aw, fuck._

_Anspi'shel tumbled out with an inglorious_ thud _. She came face-to-toe with a rather nice pair of boots._

_Her gaze raked upwards and landed on the face of the boots' owner. To her amazement, it was a fellow Twi'lek: young, Lethan with startlingly blue eyes, her lekku tattooed with faded markings. Anspi'shel couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a Lethan Twi'lek. She was fully clad in armor. A simple leather headband served as her sole headguard against the cold, non-indicative of potential clan or caste, not that Anspi'shel knew much about either off the top of her head. All she knew was that if this woman had been at the opposite end of a crowded room, she would've been magnetic._

_“Explain,” the other Twi'lek commanded, voice as icy as the air._

_“Woah, let's not make any hasty moves.” Anspi'shel raised her hands slightly, in a gesture undecided between surrender and mollification. “You don't know what's in this crate.”_

_“I ordered this crate.”_

_“You don’t know what else is in this crate besides the contents you ordered.”_

_“One unlucky woman and her recycled air.” The other Twi’lek stepped closer, aiming her blaster at Anspi'shel's face. “You're in White Maw territory. On Hoth. We're the_ Faho'lalesk. _Mean anything to you?”_

 _Twi'leki? So...she was the leader? “Nothing, I swear! Well, I mean, nothing bad._ _Wasn’t implying you're small-time.”_

_“Any particular reason why we opened this crate for power cells and found you?”_

_“My name's Anspi'shel.” Anspi'shel enunciated her name carefully, to emphasize their hopefully shared language. “I'm running from the Exchange.” As she'd learned with the Chiss lady back on Nar Shaddaa, sometimes it was best to tell the truth. Besides, what use was so-called Twi’lek solidarity if it didn’t guarantee evading an immediate shot to the face? “A couple of goons caught up to me on Florrum. I made it to a spaceport, stowed away on the first badly guarded freighter I saw, and here I am.” Anspi'shel spread her hands. Fifteen blasters pointed in her direction. “Ta-karking-da.”_

_“Wait.” The leader lowered her blaster by an inch, scornful scowl sagging into a general frown. “Did you say 'the Exchange'?”_

_“Yup.” Anspi’shel paused, weighed her options, then eased into a slouch. “Need to defrost your ear cones,_ supisy _?”_

_The leader's scowl returned, deeper, and she gave her followers a few jerky nods. Three of them walked round to the back of the crate. Anspi'shel listened, in case they tried anything. It sounded like they were prying open the casing. Seconds later, someone grunted, and a flashing tracking device clattered onto the floor in front of her._

_“Oh. That's...not good,” Anspi'shel stated._

_“Nooooo,” the leader concurred, sarcastically._

_“Guess they think I have real friends to run to,” mused Anspi'shel. “Can’t believe those morons are going through all this trouble. This is the most committed relationship I’ve ever been in.”_

_“What now?” asked a Nautolan._ _The leader didn't respond aloud, though her forehead creased in concentration. The tip of her lekku twitched, too quickly for Anspi'shel to read._

“Vashna _Alilia?” Hmm. The Devaronian who'd spoken had used a Twi'leki form of address. But Anspi'shel hadn't heard a glottal stop within 'Alilia', unlike_ 'Faho'lalesk _'_. _If it'd been a mistake, the leader hadn't commented. Interesting._

 _The leader -_ Alilia  _\- unholstered one of her blaster pistols and tossed it to Anspi'shel, who fumbled to catch it and smiled ruefully when she succeeded._

 _"_ _Since you got us into this mess, you'll help us fight," said Alilia._

_“They won't be sending everything they've got, y'know,” said Anspi'shel. “Most likely, two third-rate bounty hunters and a Trandoshan with a nasty cough.”_

_“Then it should be easy for you to deal with. Single-handedly.”_

_“Yeaaaaaah,” Anspi'shel drawled, stretching the word into a frankly unreasonable number of syllables. “Now's probably the time to mention I've got a weak immune system.”_

_“And I've got low tolerance for smart-mouthed smugglers.” Upon hearing Alilia's declaration, a passing Chagrian lieutenant stopped dead in their tracks to eye their leader in blatant amusement. “Shut up,” she said, without heat. They shrugged, still smiling, and kept walking._

* * *

If Anspi’shel ever dwelled on it - and she didn’t, not at the front of her mind, not where it could morph into a headache - she’d realise that the past few years had been the happiest and most frustrating of her life.

Life certainly had reasons to be frustrated with her. She was brash. She was impulsive. She could be casually ruthless and inconveniently altruistic. _(Thanks for nothing, Kaliyo._ ) And she felt like she was perpetually on the run, even when she was happy where she was. 

However, one thing had remained constant before Anspi'shel had joined the White Maw. Throughout her emotional exile, she'd treated general Twi’lek-ness affectionately. She respected Rylothian customs enough to split her name, though she’d exploited the exact wording by waiting until the first time she'd been  _arrested_. Anyway, the extra apostrophe was hardly a mark of shame in the wider galaxy - all but the most conservative communities recognised that many Twi’leks were born into unfortunate circumstances, that many had to resort to crime in order to survive.

That was why she'd been puzzled at Alilia's stiffening when she’d mentioned it early in their relationship.

“I’m not Rylothian,” Alilia had said, curtly. “I was conceived on a ship _leaving Ryloth_.”

“I’m not Rylothian, either,” Anspi'shel had argued. “I grew up on tramp freighters and space stations. We’re all offworlders, here!” She’d gestured behind herself. A kolto tank had burst a leak. “What’s the big deal?”

“If it’s not a big deal, why bring it up?”

Her retort had given Anspi’shel pause. “Uh. Tradition? Being Twi'lek?”

“I was enslaved by a Weequay man for seven years. I've forgotten how to hold a full conversation in Twi'leki.[2] And now you’re saying a historically forced _mark of shame_ is part of being Twi’lek.” Alilia had stormed past, the tip of a twitching lek brushing Anspi’shel’s face. “I won’t go from one brand to another.”

“I didn’t think you were branded anywhere,” Anspi’shel had called over her shoulder. “I’ve checked!”

It was a miracle that she’d survived the resulting death glare and lived to this very day. Praise Kika’lekki.

So, Anspi’shel was far from the contemplative type. But if she consciously wondered about anything heavy, it was why she stayed with a gang fundamentally obligated to live on snowy planets while the Hutt Cartel continued to send slavers to her pseudo-homeworld, rubbing their stubby hands and licking their slimy lips. Did they have lips? They were licking the thing around their mouths.

“Lots of aliens joining the Alliance lately,” she said, offhand. 

“More aliens are moving to Zakuul,” said Alilia, her fork clattering onto her plate. “You think we should relocate there?”

It was a winter morning, which, on Ilum, was like slathering oneself in ice cubes in the pitch-black dark, standing in front of a big fan running on its fastest setting, then dying. Even within the ultra-insulated walls of the main base, the air was too nippy to concentrate. Gang members were known to resort to bickering purely to generate heat.

“Zakuul wants to bleed us dry. The Alliance doesn’t,” Anspi’shel reasoned. “The Alliance is actually paying us for materials they'll use against Zakuul. So that’s a false equivalence, boss.”

Alilia stared. “Who taught you that term?”

“I’m not suggesting we move to - wherever they are - ”

“I’m not listening if you do.”

“I know there's a Mirialan in charge of the privateer branch,” said Anspi'shel, in a tone veering towards wheedling. “How many Twi’leks d’you think they've got?” 

“Too many.” Alilia picked up her fork, only to deliberately drop it again, with a louder clatter. “They could join us instead.”

“What're we offering?” Anspi'shel countered. “We steal, violently and in large quantities. We murder. On our worst days, we're no better than a Nar Shaddaa swoop gang. On our best, we're a bit worse than a bunch of pricey mercenaries.”

“We target people who deserve it.”

“Yeah, no shortage of those. But we don't _have_ to anymore.”

“We're offering great pay, shelter, and security,” argued Alilia.  _A dangerous life on a freezing planet._ A job where they couldn't be scorned or fetishized for their background or species, because they were feared and hated for being scarily efficient professional criminals.

To offset the severity of her stance, Alilia patted Anspi'shel's hand with the one that didn't have a death grip on a spoon. 

In the past few years, the Republic’s anti-slavery measures had faltered further, thanks to their distraction with the ongoing war of subterfuge against the Empire and their subservience to Zakuul. Anspi'shel had heard news from Vette, who'd heard from her old gang: tensions were coming to a head between the Hutt Cartel and the people they'd been subjugating for millennia, Rylothian Twi'leks first among them. 

The White Maw was already losing people to the Alliance. Mostly nonhumans. Departing members didn't explain why they were leaving or where they were going, but Anspi'shel had a sinking feeling. They wouldn't leave Alilia's protection - or risk her wrath - for just _anyone_. In her youth, Anspi'shel would've cherished the gang without question. But now, older and exhausted by the galaxy, she wondered if she and Alilia were doomed to irrelevance in their own liberation because Alilia wouldn't surrender a notion of freedom which was entirely based on the ability to take from others. 

Not in such fancy words, of course. Not so many. And not at the front of her mind. Nowhere except wordless, in her heart; nowhere else it could hurt. 

* * *

_“Do you believe in love at first sight,_ Vashna _Alilia?”_

_“No,” Alilia replied, not glancing up from cleaning her blaster barrel, “because our concept of love is largely based on impressions made in early childhood. My parents were from Ryloth. Twi'lek myths and legends rarely rely on love at first sight as a plot device, since traditionalist Twi'leks generally marry within the close-knit communities they grew up in.”_

_Anspi'shel pouted. “You're no fun.”_

_Alilia smiled, still without looking up, a small smile, a smile that would've felt intrusive to glimpse had she not flashed it right in front of Anspi'shel. Anspi'shel was still tingly from the metaphorical bloodbath - luxuriating in the satiation following victory in battle. It'd been a long time since the sensation had persisted past the last press of the trigger, and hadn't been overpowered by exhaustion with undertones of guilt. Anspi'shel was a connoisseur like that._

_She'd liked the way Alilia had insisted on staying at the front during the fight with the Exchange thugs. Alilia hadn't demanded her blaster back from Anspi'shel afterwards; she'd mumbled 'not bad' and hadn't locked her out in the cold. Later, Alilia had sounded the glottal stop in Anspi'shel's name while giving her the rundown on the White Maw's rules. Anspi'shel usually didn't care for books, but she'd love to read_ lots _into that._

_“You could stick around for a while, _”_  said Alilia, airily, as if parsing the squiggly lines in Anspi'shel's mind seconds before they shaped into words. “Teach me how to be 'fun'. _”__

_Delight stirred in Anspi'shel's chest, vibrated from her heart up to the base of her lekku. “Lesson one: don't put 'fun' in quotation marks.”_

_Alilia's eyes sparkled, bright as the sun glinting off the pristine snow outside and far easier to behold. “Then what did you_ just _do?”_

* * *

Four years. Four years of trudging through slush and scraping ice off communications panels. Four years of regularly following orders. Four years, and their first meeting still felt like yesterday. 

 _“Sleep, sleep, my little one,”_ sang Anspi'shel. The tune was well-known, since early childhood; the lyrics were entirely Alilia's.  _“Sleep, like the setting sun...”_

Below her, Trick's eyelids drooped with drowsiness. Alilia was off inspecting the White Maw's speeders, so lullaby duty fell to Anspi'shel. She felt only mildly ridiculous. 

Anspi’shel had initially justified staying on Hoth as self-preservation. She’d been hunted, victimised by ex-fuckbuddies, and she’d stumbled upon the _Faho'lalesk_ , a cozy pirate gang headed by an ambitious, gorgeous Twi'lek woman. Anspi’shel had quickly climbed the ranks through cunning and the experienced insight that could only be granted by years of unwise experiences. It was understandable why she'd remain for a while. 

But as weeks inched into months and months galloped to a year, and the warmth of a sun faded further into memory, Anspi’shel had been forced to face her worst enemy (after the Exchange and vengeful ex-fuckbuddies): herself.

It was very difficult to ignore herself when the most common trigger of self-doubt was someone similar.  

 _Freykaa_. _Eswo._ _Kaa'lia._  Anspi'shel couldn't pronounce these Ryl words without concentrating. She hadn't been compelled to say them, before. 

 _“Rest your eyes and rest your cries, and I will see you when you rise.”_ Trick was already fast asleep, but Anspi'shel finished the song, relishing how the lyrics rolled off her tongue. 

(There was a time, Alilia had confessed, when she'd occasionally wondered what would've happened if the Voidhound had sent Trick to the Republic. Maybe the Jedi could've helped him; maybe they wouldn't have abused his power after all. Naturally, Alilia would've followed and written the White Maw off as a bad dream. There'd always been rumours about Twi'lek pilgrims searching for Tython. Maybe she could've found a place with them.

But Alilia had stopped wondering about what could've been after the Sith Empire had attacked Tython.) 

As far as Anspi’shel knew, there was no guide to romantic relationships between Twi’lek women. If there  _was,_  it’d be written by a creepy human guy, based on secondhand information, and graphically fixate on lekku sex positions. Which would be dangerously wrong. (There was a word for lekku-fucking, she swore, but she couldn't remember it and, for better or worse, her family had never uttered it in her presence.) 

The intimate conversations Anspi'shel had seen between Twi'lek women mostly consisted of dialogue at the start of human-produced porn. (Sometimes in the middle, if they were feeling visionary.) Not much riveting talk after that. Meanwhile, the majority of Twi'lek-produced stuff focused on literal and spiritual sisterhood. There  _were_ books and vids and so on about coping with displacement, or whatever, but they lurked in places Anspi’shel wouldn't think to look since she didn’t know where she was.

Alilia hadn’t been born into slavery. During her enslavement to that Weequay bastard Shai Tenna, she’d basically run his faction while he’d taken credit, none the wiser. For years, she'd simultaneously suffered greatly and wielded a level of power that usually took Twi'leks years to achieve. That gave her a unique perspective on Twi'leks' position in the galaxy.

Admittedly, Anspi'shel found it confusing. It often escalated to large words and long sentences concealing longer sentences. She suspected that Alilia withheld her strongest opinions because she thought Anspi'shel didn't have the patience to understand. It rankled because they were in-sync in almost every other area: battle; mundane operations; sex; devising ingenious ways to get Trick to sleep, sometimes so they could have sex. 

It rankled because she was probably right. 

Until Alilia, Anspi'shel had had a knack for ditching promising opportunities and honouring the wrong loyalties. She didn't know herself. She didn't know Ryloth, but that ignorance was imbued with an air of mystique, unlike the intimate ways in which she didn't know herself. So over the turbulent years Ryloth had represented every extreme unknown: stability, respectability, wholesome community. Consciously, she knew that it  _wasn't._She knew that it would be a long time before it remotely resembled her associations, if ever. But the associations persisted. And if she couldn't have Ryloth, then a portion of her mind whispered that she couldn't have anywhere.  [3]

The looming Star Fortress had provided the biggest escape opportunity yet. Anspi’shel could've left after the evacuation. In fact, she’d entertained the idea as she'd dashed across the emptying hangar. The Exchange’s bounty had probably expired. She'd help the White Maw settle on Ilum, say her passionate goodbyes, and fly to Port Nowhere to see if the Voidhound had returned (she had not; she still hadn’t). Or, hell, she could join one of the rebel groups on Ryloth. 

A single look back had made her reconsider. She saw a gang of aliens and outcasts and former slaves, dragged into a measure of scruples by their leader. She saw Alilia shouting orders, one hand on Trick's shoulder to guide him, while the other clutched a blaster. She saw, if not a home, what could be a promising foundation of one.

But she also saw a Twi'lek woman who'd forgotten what it was like to belong anywhere except with thieves and murderers. And unlike a mirror, Anspi'shel couldn't turn away whenever the nameless uneasiness surfaced.

* * *

_Four weeks. Four weeks on this wretched frostbitten world and Anspi’shel was losing her mind. At least the company was decent, when Alilia could spare the time._

_The deathstick between Alilia's parted lips cast an orange glow over her profile. It brought to mind statues of Kika’lekki bathed in torchlight. As seen on vids. Anspi’shel had yet to set foot in a Twi’leki temple. It was weird - Alilia seemed tiny even in her standard imposing armor, but she also seemed imposing in these ordinary clothes._

_“How are you settling in?” Alilia asked._

Settling _. Hah._

_“Okay, I guess.” Anspi'shel fiddled with her own deathstick, then stuck her tongue out and chucked it away. Somehow, there weren’t any Twi'lek women among the White Maw besides their leader. The gang members were respectful - most had known Alilia for years, many were aliens - but Anspi’shel wouldn’t let her guard down. Not after Kaliyo. “I kinda sorta totally hate the cold.”_

_“Yeah, we're not built for this climate.”_

_For some reason, that acknowledgement of shared biology led to Anspi’shel detailing her childhood in space, where it tended to be chilly in ships and space stations. Alilia nodded as she listened, lips curving around the deathstick into a wry smile. Twi'lek physiology naturally ran hot compared to other humanoids. Yet Alilia's sporadic soft noises elicited shivers in the warmest and coldest parts of Anspi'shel's body._

_“Well, at least_ something's _been hot,” drawled Anspi'shel._

 _Smoke rings drifted between them._   _“Dare I ask?”_

_“Your eyes on me.”_

_Alilia's frequent stares hadn't been lost on Anspi'shel. It'd be a shame to leave while leaving it unsaid. Anspi'shel watched her face, willing herself not to move, daring Alilia to voice what the twitches of her lekku hinted._

_“My bedroom has a superior heating system.” Alilia stubbed her deathstick against the wall behind her, flicked it to the floor and crushed it underfoot. Anspi'shel had never experienced such overwhelming emotional identification with an inanimate object. And she'd seen a lot of trash. “Want me to show you?”_

_Anspi’shel laughed. “That’s...real subtle, boss.”_

_“I haven't the slightest clue what you’re talking about. You'll have to explain there.”_

_Alilia’s quarters were naturally the largest in the base; Trick slept in a bedroom attached to hers. She had her own armory, though some weapons spilled onto the Wampa-skin rugs of the main room. The bed was covered in layers of blankets, a shocking number of frilly pillows..._

_Anspi’shel’s gaze landed on a mirror that spanned nearly a whole wall, opposite the bed._

_“I had it installed months ago,” said Alilia. “It makes the room look bigger.”_

_“Not enough space for you, Princess?” Anspi’shel teased. “Sheesh. How much d'you need?_

_Alilia swiped her tongue over her sharp front teeth. “Come closer and find out.”_

_Minutes passed as a blur after the first kiss. Anspi'shel cradled the back of Alilia's head, didn't let go even as Alilia's hands roamed her body and groped and shoved. The room seemed to spin wildly as Anspi'shel sprawled on the mattress and Alilia pounced on her. It inverted with_ tchin _hooking around_ tchun _and twisting. (“I’ve never, not like this,” Alilia gasped, and Anspi’shel dragged her pointed tongue over her lek and looked up with a grin and rasped, “It’s fucking awesome.”)_

 _The first time Alilia came, it was writhing against Anspi'shel's tongue, gasping commands. The second, it was on her merciless fingers; the third, in wet spurts against her thigh. Rapidly approaching the fourth, the tip of Alilia's free_ tchin _wrapped around the tip of Anspi'shel's_   _free_ tchun  _and squeezed in time with their already-joined lekku_ _. Anspi'shel lost count after that. (She was no good at numbers and she was always excellent at sex.) They barely spoke, occupied as their mouths were - but Anspi'shel knew, in her gut, what Alilia wanted from her. And she knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to give it._

_Both women lacked the patience to properly undress. Alilia palmed at Anspi'shel's breast over her half-unzipped shirt and yanked her panties aside to scoop up her slick and insert her fingers one at a time. Artless, desperate. Hot. Besides their lekku, the sparsity of skin-on-skin contact was somehow more intense. Alilia fucked the way she fought, a wildness in her eyes narrowed into acute focus. Anspi'shel could've sworn her grip on her ankle was identical to how she held a karking blaster - she definitely fired as expertly._

_She let Alilia dangle her at the edge of orgasm until she was a gibbering wreck, then marvelled as Alilia had her toppling off the edge with the hiss of a single word and a strategic nip at the base of her throat._

_Through her pleasured haze, Anspi’shel registered Alilia’s holocomm beeping on her nightstand. Alilia propped herself up on an elbow, covered her (unfairly luscious) bare breasts with a blanket, and answered._

_It was the Devaronian, calling from an Outer Rim mining colony rumoured to use slave labour._ “Vashna _, we’ve got prisoners. They surrendered. One won’t shut up about how his family’s big on Cantonica. What do we do?”_

_Alilia’s voice came out sharp and authoritative, with little breathiness: “Confirm their identities and send me the list. Slaver scum say anything to survive. We’re taking ransoms or heads. Maybe both.”_

_The holocomm landed back on the nightstand. Alilia smiled. “Now, where were we?”_

_Anspi’shel was floored. Someone so loving and nurturing could also be brazenly alluring; that brazenly alluring person could also be a fierce underworld boss, effortlessly switching roles in a manner of seconds. Possibly, not actually switching at all. Anspi'shel's cheeks re-heated and didn't cool until after she fell asleep. Against Anspi'shel's body, Alilia's burned like a furnace. Anspi'shel was more than happy to melt._

* * *

“I’ve got something to show you, boss,” singsonged Anspi’shel. “My office, ten minutes?” 

They'd spent the morning exchanging 'accidental' bumps. Winks of eyes. All wordless, soundless save for sharp breaths and the suggestive rustle of fabric. Anspi'shel's chipper voice over the holocomm had probably doused whatever mutual flame of desire they'd been stoking, but hey. Politics.

Alilia entered the room as if she expected an attack from the rafters. Anspi’shel gestured grandly at the table where she’d already pulled out a seat for her. Waiting there were flimsiplast pamphlets in jarringly different art, colours, and typefaces, implying that completely different people had drafted each. A holodisc sat atop them.

“They came in the mail,” said Anspi’shel. The ‘mail’ was a little joke of theirs - she was referring to the White Maw’s drop points scattered around the Outer Rim. She selected a wordy pamphlet and read in a dramatic voice:

 

_THE ALLIANCE_

_The galaxy burns. War between the GALACTIC REPUBLIC and the SITH EMPIRE_ _progresses slowly as both pay tribute to ZAKUUL, shadows of their former selves._

_Meanwhile, the nefarious HUTT CARTEL and its associates find themselves in a precarious position. They may have greater latitude to terrorise the defenseless alien worlds of the Outer Rim, but the unpredictability of the ETERNAL FLEET keeps them in check. Now their usual victims have sensed change in the wind._

_This is happening by the minute, near you, wherever you are. Now a collection of brave souls gather to resist tyranny in any form it takes…_

 

“Fascinating,” said Alilia, dryly.

Rolling her eyes, Anspi’shel loaded the holodisc onto the computer terminal and leaned against a nearby wall, heart hammering faster than it did during a firefight.

A human woman appeared onscreen, a pale figure stark against a black backdrop. She had smooth hands and an equally smooth complexion stretched over an achingly earnest expression.

 _“I used to be an animal rights activist,”_ the human said, in an upper-level Coruscanti accent. _“I had, ah, a few mishaps before. I was depressed for years after my last mission. I'd failed. Then the Alliance came along, and now opposing Zakuul is my meaning. But that's not all we're doing! For years, I had to be treated for a number of 'incurable' diseases. I know what it's like to fight the impossible when there's rot inside. Anyway, I’m putting my face on camera because I believe in accountability, and I refuse to fail this time.”_

Anspi’shel caught Alilia’s eye and grinned triumphantly.

 _“We’ve got other goals that aren’t even on the Republic’s radar,”_ said the human. _“We've been talking about the importance of liberating Ryloth.”_ Anspi’shel’s smile widened, though discomfort stirred at the sight of Alilia’s blank face, at her finger tapping a monotonous rhythm on the tabletop while the woman's voice pitched through valleys of passion. Anspi'shel's sense of validation couldn't decide whether it was safe to roost.  _“If people just did their research, they'd see that Twi’leks are such a beautiful and fascinating people! They_ deserve _independence. They deserve to reclaim what we stole from them._

 _“Now that Zakuul's bamboozled everyone, we have a chance to help them overturn the old powers,_ including _those evil Hutts, to return things to the way they once were.”_ Alilia froze. Anspi'shel dimly recalled her complaints about oligarchs, corrupt representatives on the galactic political stage, Twi'leks participating in the slave trade. The glow in her chest gradually receded, replaced with icy dread. _“Once_ Twi’leks _are back in power on the_ Twi’lek _world, in charge of their_ own _economy, everything will be better. And what’s better for one of the galaxy’s peoples is better for the whole galaxy - ”_

The terminal switched off. Anspi’shel was mildly surprised to discover that it was her own finger on the button.

Alilia massaged her temples. “I don’t fault the Alliance higher-ups, since they don’t personally oversee propaganda…”

Trailing off struck Anspi’shel as more ominous than a furious flood of words. “Okay, so there's some idiot in charge of vids. But you get the message. It’s a good message.”

“What about these?” demanded Alilia, smacking the table.

Anspi’shel had meticulously scoured the pamphlets for those with Twi’leks, and other alien species when she suspected she needed stronger evidence to make her case. She was about to point out the propaganda’s inclusivity - then she realised that most of the Twi’leks depicted were battered women wearing shock collars, usually on their knees, occasionally penned.

Anspi’shel snatched one of the pamphlets and slapped it over the rest. It showed a Lethan and a Rutian Twi’lek flashing their thumbs up, wearing the Alliance insignia as necklaces in blue and red, respectively. They didn’t wear collars, nor were they marked by visible slave brands.

“They’re happy _here,_ ” Anspi’shel tried desperately.

Alilia eyed their bare midriffs. “That isn’t any type of traditional clothing.”

“Maybe they just like how it looks. And it _looks_ like traditional clothes,” Anspi’shel argued, as Alilia shook her head in what may have been dismay and what may have been disgust. “Really, really looks like it.”

“But it’s _not_.”

“It could be - from one of those weird sects - ”

“Have you seen the pilgrims searching for Tython? They’re practically wearing sacks.”

“The damn clothes don’t matter, Your Madjesty. It’s a movement, not a fashion parade.”

Anspi’shel might as well have coughed politely, for all the attention her retort earned. Alilia jammed her thumb into the flimsiplast like it was a bug to be squished.

“Does the Alliance make these things _for_ us or _about_ us?” said Alilia. “If it’s just _about_ us, that’s just being fetishized in a different way. I don’t care if non-Twi’leks weep salty tears of regret while exploiting our suffering. They’re still fucking exploiting us.”

“Twi’leks have been talking like this for _ages,_  waiting for someone else to hear us!” said Anspi’shel, the tips of her lekku pointing and convulsing in irritation. “The hell do you want? They stay quiet, and they're killing us. They help, and they're hurting us? They’re only repeating what _we_ say.”

“That’s the problem.” Alilia slowly tore one of the pamphlets in half. “There were no aliens behind this. No Twi’lek women. I know, because they wouldn’t sanction it. If the Alliance doesn’t have aliens high in their propaganda department, why would they put an alien in charge of the whole organisation, even a damn Chiss? Why should we believe they care? I might believe that they believe it. But we shouldn’t accept degradation just because it’s designed to be goodwill.”

Anspi’shel shook her head, speechless. _We_ very clearly meant _you_. Why couldn’t she say _you?_ Lumping her with a hypothetical collective made Anspi’shel feel lonelier than if she'd been personally attacked.

“We're finished here,” concluded Alilia, scooting her chair back with a harsh sound and pushing her palms off the table, sending the pamphlets flying in the process. [4]

On Alilia’s way out, her fingers curled over the door panel. For a moment, Anspi’shel worried that her grip would somehow break the durasteel.

“Next time they place an order, double the price,” said Alilia. “Triple. Whatever. Make an excuse. Just make them pay.”

* * *

_“We're on our own,” said Alilia. She sounded pleased; Anspi'shel noticed the tips of her lekku twitching in what she'd describe as a mixture of satisfaction and anxiety. “The Voidhound has released us from her service.”_

_“What happened?” asked a Togruta. A murmur of speculative uncertainty rippled through the room._

_“She wants to move on to more freelance work, and the fleet was getting too heavily involved with the SIS.” Alilia shrugged. The_ Faho'lalesk _had rarely interacted with the other members of the Voidhound's privateer fleet. “Business as usual. It's more symbolic than anything.”_

 _At the start, the Voidhound had warned the gang not to abuse Trick or attack the Republic's property. She'd given them assignments and infrequently fed them intel. But early in Alilia's tenure, it'd become clear that_ Alilia _led the gang, not her elusive saviour. Now it was just official._

 _Before Anspi'shel could join the line of gang members filing out of the room_ _, Alilia's hand slid around her wrist, pulled her closer._  

_“The Voidhound is a Twi'lek,” Alilia revealed. “Lower-level Coruscanti, I think. Wanna see her message? I'm not going to show anyone else.”_

_Anspi'shel nodded eagerly. She had to admit, she'd been curious. For the past few months, she'd heard random remarks about their long-distance, hands-off boss, and she knew about how she'd put Alilia in charge, but she hadn't learned her name or species. She'd gathered that Alilia held the Voidhound in such high esteem that the gang felt it was sacrilegious to casually mention her._

_Alilia led Anspi'shel to her quarters and handed her a datapad, studying her face as she read._ _The holomessage was written in an astonishingly flippant tone. In addition to the reason Alilia had given, the Voidhound said she simply hated the responsibility of a pirate fleet - she could hardly take care of herself._ “You were already looking after a kid,” _she'd written._ “What's a pirate gang but hundreds of kids with grenades and loaded blasters? An army? You don't have a uniform.” 

_The mail was signed 'Captain Siennh'. So, no apostrophe or clan name, either._

_Turning slowly, Anspi'shel batted her eyelashes at Alilia._

_“Guess you aren't getting rid of me yet,” said Anspi'shel._

_Alilia raised a perfectly painted eyebrow. “Why's that?”_

_“You've gotta have another Twi'lek in your life. You need two to do the job properly. Like lungs.” Anspi'shel vaguely recalled that most humanoid species actually only needed one lung, but she crossed her fingers and hoped Alilia didn't know that. “Or...crossed fingers.”_

_“Very gracious of you.”_

_The tiniest tremble in Alilia's voice betrayed her relief. Anspi'shel slung one arm around her shoulder and smirked into the crook of her neck. Her smirk widened into a grin when two of Alilia's fingers encircled the base of her_ tchin. 

* * *

Days after Anspi'shel's ill-fated pitch, Rylothian rebels occupied the Cartel-run towns of Circaa and Circoo. ('Here' and 'There' in Ryl. The ancient invaders had not been geniuses.) Alilia hadn't mentioned it. As fires spread and further attacks were mounted, Anspi'shel grew antsier. 

Politicians and parties rumoured to be sympathetic to the Alliance voiced their support. The most prominent was Senator Alauni of Saleucami, a world heavily influenced by Twi'lek settlers. Alauni was a Tukian Twi'lek who'd worked closely with the Barsen'thor. She'd caused additional uproar by claiming that her missing friend would've lent her support as well. At the other end of the Republic political spectrum, there was Ex-Supreme Chancellor Saresh - another Tukian, a former Imperial slave descended from Tarisian aristocracy. She also voiced cautious support, partially in Ryl, probably in an attempt to one-up Alauni, though she'd botched some of the pronunciation.

Anspi'shel mailed credits to an old friend who'd joined one of the resistance groups. Unbidden, she recalled a Twi'leki platitude her mother used to murmur - from her maternal grandparents' dialect, Ryu, which Anspi'shel had never learned. Her tongue clumsily rolled over the familiar words. She had no idea what it meant, only that it was supposed to be comforting. 

She found Alilia standing alone on one of the base’s watchtowers, a pair of macrobinoculars trained on the lightless horizon. Anspi'shel resisted the urge to smack her ass.

“I wanna send out more scouting parties next week,” said Alilia, not turning around. “We can establish another landing pad eventually.” Anspi’shel emitted a non-committal sound. “I mean, we’re storing more tibanna gas than my brain can process.”

“I’m sure there’re potential buyers out there,” said Anspi’shel. “I might know people.”

Alilia lowered the macrobinoculars as she whipped around. “Flygirl, what _is_ it with you and that Alliance?”

“I just...love rebellions.”

“It’s organised rebellion. You hate organised activities, big organisations, and organising. Is it about Ryloth?”

Anspi’shel nearly cast her eyes downwards, then fought the urge in favour of meeting Alilia’s accusatory gaze. “They’re promising something you aren’t.”

“That’s because I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

Anspi’shel gestured at the breadth of the base behind them. “Tell me what this is.”

“It’s a building. Do you need the binoculars?”

“Tell me what we're doing.”

“Don’t _order_ me around, Lieutenant.”

“I see I have a rank when it’s convenient for you to lord it over me.” No reply was forthcoming other than a scoff. “Don't say I'm being naive. You know I'm no goody-two-shoes.”

“I know you have two left feet and always one toe out the door. Forgive me for getting confused.” 

That stung more than Anspi'shel would care to admit. “This is a chance to do something important for once - ” 

The tips of Alilia's lekku pointed in frustration. “How does putting my people at risk for a bunch of humans translate into something _important?”_

“Your people?”

“The White Maw,” Alilia clarified, sounding hassled.   

“We'd be helping people who want to help us,” insisted Anspi'shel, “not just humans.” 

“Who says I want their help? What has the Alliance said about Nal Hutta and the Evocii? Are they less deserving of independence or revenge, or are they just not fuckable enough?” Alilia caught her breath in a chillingly short moment and wagged a scolding finger. “Look, I won’t enter someone else’s war just because they’re carelessly stoking the flames of mine.”

“It’s already our war!”

If Anspi’shel had been more contemplative, she could point out that _every_ war was their war, since the Empire depended on slave labour and the Republic was weakened. If Anspi’shel had been more argumentative, she could outline how Zakuul presented an opportunity; how they could be the change necessary in a young organisation receptive to their needs for multiple reasons. 

But as it was, she was cold and tired and shrinking in the face of Alilia’s rage. She felt more trapped than she’d ever felt while hiding in a crate. And she’d hidden in a great many crates! As Anspi'shel fought to regain her composure, Alilia turned back around, eyes once again obscured behind the binoculars. Anspi’shel bit her lip and quietly descended the stairs to the base.

If she’d lingered longer, she would’ve heard the beginnings of a muffled sob.

* * *

_Alilia called her ‘Flygirl’ because she used to be a pilot. Anspi'shel called Alilia ‘Your Madjesty’ because she was a gloriously angry pirate queen, and Anspi'shel may have been trying to prove that she was the funnier person. She delayed leaving day by day to week by week, reminding herself less and less often, until it stopped occurring to her altogether. Neither of them mentioned the change._

_“It's nice to be able to talk to someone,” said Alilia. The embers of her deathstick had long died out, but her eyes shone in the dark. Anspi'shel could've replied that between the fighting and looting and sex, they didn't do much_ talking _. But she kept her mouth shut. Or, rather, engulfing four of Alilia's fingers and sucking, before dipping her head below her waist._

 _Alilia sighed contentedly. She took Anspi'shel's wandering hand in hers. It was as breathtaking as a skydive, as a hasty takeoff, as_ tchin _meeting_ tchun _._

* * *

Nighttime on Ilum was the absolute worst time to attempt a daring escape. Fortunately for Anspi’shel, this wasn’t a daring escape so much as a semi-controlled tantrum that would probably be discovered, probably by Alilia. Anspi’shel was counting on it, really.

Figures. A written language, spoken language with lekku movements, lekku language, essential knowledge of standard Huttese and Galactic Basic, and it was damn near impossible to communicate with another fucking Twi'lek. 

Sure enough, several minutes of stomping and banging (partially unintentional) brought Alilia to the long hallway where Anspi’shel was nominally sneaking through. 

“Where the hell are you going?”

“To get a ship!” Upset as Alilia was, Anspi'shel doubted she’d have her restrained or blasted out of the sky. (As if she could hit her. Anspi'shel was her best shot.) “Don’t worry, I’ll take a dinky one, maybe a starfighter. Say bye to Trick for me.” She couldn’t fathom doing it in person. 

Footsteps clattered behind her, but she wasn’t overtaken by Alilia. So far, so good. The hangar’s blast door slid open, greeting her with a gust of wind. Scanning the ships, she settled for an elderly Republic starfighter that'd been salvaged from the Starship Graveyard on Hoth. She punched the clearance code into a nearby console and waited for a stepladder to roll to its side.

Anspi’shel reached the top of the ladder, put a hand on the hatch, then made the fatal mistake of turning around to offer some smouldering parting comment that she had yet to actually construct. Instead of finding the words, she found Alilia gaining ground.

“So that’s it? The Alliance tosses out fanciful suggestions with the literal garbage, and you fill in the blanks and sprint towards it like a womp rat with its tail on fire?” With each step, Alilia’s voice pitched higher. “You _used_ me - ”

Anspi’shel relinquished her safe position on the ladder to hop down and storm forward, jabbing her index finger. “As I recall, _you’ve_ been the one doing the most moaning and dramatic climaxing.”

Alilia resorted to something truly terrifying, something most gang leaders couldn't pull off half as well. She stared. Cool. Calculating. Her lekku, motionless. When she stepped forward, Anspi’shel automatically stepped back, an instinct acquired by years of Alilia-centric compliance. They moved until she was cornered near a wall.

Anspi’shel shivered - though the cold was currently the last thing on her mind - and fumbled at the front clasps of her jacket, just to keep herself occupied, anything to avoid gaping like a stationary tauntaun. She was stopped by Alilia’s firm hands on hers.

“Fuck you, flygirl,” said Alilia, all calm and sharp syllables. She pulled off Anspi'shel's gloves; Alilia's palms were even warmer than Anspi'shel's flushed cheeks. She gulped as Alilia moved on to toying with her collar. “What’s wrong? Nexu got your tongue?”

“Nah, I was saving it for you.”

“Cute. But no thanks.” The idle toying turned into a rough shove that had Anspi’shel pressed against the wall. Alilia’s hand landed by her head. “I have a perfectly fantastic one of my own.”

Between them, there was little space to wiggle, which Anspi’shel very dearly wished to do. Alilia’s kneecap brushed the front of her pants - worse for Anspi’shel’s frantic senses than if she’d jammed it right against the heat of her arousal. She’d never despised decent insulation more.

Alilia sank to her knees and Ansip’shel’s heart jumped into her mouth. 

She hooked a boot over her shoulder, squirming in desperate search of much-needed friction. No such luck. In one sentence, she swore in five different languages, three of which were nonexistent. Alilia's teeth clamped around the front zip of Anspi’shel’s pants, pulled it down and dragged the coarse fabric past her hips; the squirming helped displace her panties. Fingernails dug into Anspi'shel's ass, serving as a startling counterpoint to her breath ghosting over exposed skin.

Anspi’shel’s knees chose that excellent moment to give out. She slid to the floor, and Alilia lowered to a crouch, throat rumbling. 

Anspi’shel inhaled sharply at the bite of chilly air on her bare flesh - only to lose the breath like she’d been punched as Alilia’s scorching mouth fastened over her clit and sucked once. Seconds crawled with Alilia's parted lips waiting, unmoving, hysterically reminiscent of the chaste style of kiss they’d rarely shared above-waist. At least the first light swipe of her flattened tongue comforted Anspi'shel's tensed body with its familiarity. But Alilia nipped her inner thigh harder than usual, and each subsequent lick and flick lashed like a shock.

Alilia pulled back, spread Anspi'shel's labia with two fingers and lapped along the exposed flesh. Keening, Anspi'shel clumsily canted her hips upwards and felt her smirk against her cunt. Alilia growled. Didn't stop. The continuous vibrations had Anspi'shel yelping - she wished that it was metaphysically possible to hump them. A fingertip slipped into Anspi'shel's entrance and crooked and pumped in a slow, steady motion. Amidst the frayed synapse firing that passed as thoughts Anspi'shel found the presence of mind to reach for one of Alilia’s lekku, intending to fondle it. Her hand was swatted away. Seconds later, Alilia reconsidered and pinned it to the floor instead. 

Soon - too soon - the combination of sensations built to an onslaught that proved too much for poor Anspi'shel to handle. Alilia's lips returned to suckle at her clit. The tip of her tongue swirled beneath the nub as a second finger joined the one shallowly fucking Anspi'shel's cunt.

Anspi'shel begged for forgiveness...in the dialect Alilia couldn't understand. She begged for completion with whimpers and aborted cries. Her lekku spasmed for contact, any contact, and ached with need as they went denied. Yet they registered her orgasm before she did, tingling, the skin singing, exhilaration peaking - 

As abruptly as it started, Alilia’s mouth mercifully, sadly, suddenly left, leaving Anspi'shel's cunt clenching in ecstasy around absolutely nothing. The absence of touch prolonged the effect of its memory - she writhed, muffling whines into the knuckles of her free hand while the other halfheartedly fought Alilia's, just for the added contact, for _some_ facsimile of control. 

Orgasm petered into aftershocks, melted into a bone-deep satisfaction at odds with Anspi'shel's racing thoughts. She attempted to recall normal breathing and what the galaxy looked like without multicoloured sparks dotting her vision. Meanwhile, Alilia extracted herself and stood.

“You used me,” she repeated, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with her knuckles.

“You’re unbelievable,” Anspi’shel managed to pant between gasps.

“Are you calling me a liar, flygirl?”

Staggering to her feet, Anspi'shel weakly raised her index finger again. “Ask for what you want.”

“I did. Or did you not notice?”

Anspi’shel scrabbled at the wall behind her, knees forgetting that they’d regained balance. “Ask aloud. With words. Into the air.”

“A home.”

Anspi’shel blinked in surprise as Alilia licked her lips a final time. Were they really doing this now?  _Kuri'au_ did typicallyend with symbolically significant release accompanying sexual release, but Anspi'shel had assumed that meant, like, intense emotions and doves. Or ducks. She still didn't know what ducks were. She adjusted her pants, frowning. 

“Not a physical place,” Alilia clarified. “It doesn’t - that doesn’t matter. Not to me. Not the way it should. Ilum is where I belong, for now - I belong wherever the gang is - but it isn’t exactly my home.” She looked away. “Ryloth wouldn’t be home. I don’t feel like a Twi’lek. It took me a long time to feel like a real person again.”

“Twi’leks are real people. We're Twi'leks.”

“You know what I mean.” Anspi’shel did, roughly. But neither of them had any way of confirming that. Alilia hesitated. “And the thing is, I don't know how much I _want_ to feel like a Twi'lek.”

It wasn't just land that had been seized from them. Land didn't _belong_ to anyone except Kika'lekki, and She was supposedly a generous god. Now land had to be won back with blood and tears, fresh torrents into the oceans of blood and tears they'd shed losing it. Beyond land, beyond material wealth, beyond bodies, what they'd lost no longer had a name. It couldn’t be placed. 

“I don't want to 'go back' to somewhere I never was, even temporarily,” blurted Alilia. “I want to keep taking from the people who took from us.”

Anspi'shel's shoulders heaved from the force of her exhale. “That's smart. And kinda hot.”

Alilia blinked rapidly. “Glad you approve.” 

“You know, you could've just...told me,” said Anspi'shel. 

A sound short of a sob escaped Alilia. By the time she regained her voice, it sounded like bitter laughter.

“I spent seven years lying,” she said. [5]

Anspi'shel held one of Alilia's hands. She was surprised by the clamminess of her palm.  

“Right. Sometimes I forget,” whispered Anspi'shel. “You're usually pretty honest about your feelings.”

“Did I ever tell you about the Voidhound's friends?” asked Alilia. Anspi'shel shook her head. “The Wookiee was great. He was an ex-slave, too. The human guy was surprisingly sweet, but I hated how he looked at me, like it was entirely pity.” Alilia squeezed her eyes shut. “There was a Zabrak woman. I thought she'd understand at first. But she was a Mandalorian who called me a 'soft fool', among other things. The human woman only acknowledged my existence when the Voidhound put me in charge. She said it was a good call. But I could see it on her face - she was annoyed we wouldn't keep hurting Trick.”

Looking down, Anspi'shel saw that Alilia's free hand had balled into a fist by her side. “Did she complain?”

“Not in front of me. Maybe she knew I would've shot her fucking mouth off. Sometimes I wonder if the Captain got an earful on their way back.”

“Wait, so, I don't get it. If these people made such a negative impact on you...why don't you want to be around more Twi'leks? Why not pour all that rage into fighting for us?”

“Because the kriffing  _Voidhound_ hung out with those people. Willingly. Gladly.” Alilia's fist unclenched. Her jaw stayed tense. “Ryloth's become a symbol for non-Twi'leks. It's part of what _they_ think we are, and they use that idea of our identity to control us. I don't care if the Alliance is really serious. I don't even really care if other Twi'leks believe them, not while humans are the ones in charge. If I go back, it feels like I, personally, am playing into their hands.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Anspi’shel rubbed the back of her neck with her free hand, lekku restless in remorse. “I’m really sorry about today. It’s just, this isn’t normal for me. This  _staying in one place_. Yeah, it’s taken a while to realise,” she admitted, hastily overriding the objection she anticipated, “but in my defense, it’s freaking freezing.”

“If you don’t want to stay in one place, why - ”

“That’s the whole thing. If I’m  _gonna_ stay in one place, I think I’d want it to be a homeworld, not a bunch of desolate ice planets.” Anspi'shel gnawed on her lower lip - the action failed to stem the wave of doubt threatening to overflow. “At least, that's what I thought I thought.”

Alilia took a deep breath and dropped her hand. Anspi’shel steeled herself for the rebuke.

“Ilum is rich in resources,” said Alilia.

“That's - not my point -” 

“I want to run, too,” Alilia added. “Not from the White Maw, or a planet. From you. Not that there's anywhere I can actually go.”

“I honestly couldn’t have guessed,” said Anspi'shel.

“You’re pretty dense,” Alilia deadpanned, earning surprised laughter. 

“Why do _you_ want to run?”

“Every time I look at you, I see myself.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Why have you stayed?” asked Alilia. “What could possibly make you reconsider?” 

How to articulate a nameless frustration? How to justify perpetually yearning for what was already embedded deep within? If this territory had been breached before, it'd been in private, in dark corners of edges of the galaxy. If a meaningful method had become well-known, it would be taken and twisted, as other words had been, firmer words, words that moved worlds and solidified positions. What a pair they made. Speak, and be unheard. Or know yourself, indescribable, uncompromised - and alone. 

 _Freykaa_. _Eswo._ _Kaa'lia._ Words theoretically applicable, stuck on the tip of Anspi'shel's tongue. She wished Alilia could dig them out with her own tongue as easily as she'd wrung pleasure out minutes ago. She wished meaning was a certainty. 

Anspi'shel crossed the tips of her lekku over her chest, twice. Alilia took a second to parse it. She matched the motion.  [6]

“Our people will always be worth saving,” said Alilia. “But if all of us only look back, we'll lose our way in a galaxy that's racing towards...something, I don't know what. I want to know what. I want to do what I want.”

“You want me,” stated Anspi'shel, and was immediately overcome by a fit of giggling. Alilia cracked a smile. They reluctantly lowered their crossed lekku at the same time. “And it goes without saying that I want you.” Anspi'shel waggled her painted eyebrows until Alilia giggled, too, then sobered. “But I also want, y'know, armed revolt. Successfully. In a largely nonsexual way.”

“Isn't that what we've been doing this entire time?” asked Alilia.   

“It's not the same. We're usually not _freeing_ anyone.”

“We're exercising our freedom. We count as us.” 

Anspi'shel digested this information in silence. It was a lot to process in one action-packed night. It might several days, or weeks. But the knowledge that Alilia also felt the occasional urge to run was oddly...grounding.

Silence had spoken louder than Anspi'shel had intended. Alilia looked pained. She stepped aside, freeing the path back to the starfighter.

“If you really want to leave - ” 

Anspi'shel raced to the starfighter's console and pressed the buttoms to make the stepladder zip away. 

“I'm not going anywhere,” said Anspi'shel. “Not without you. It wouldn't be home without you.”

Alilia's mouth quirked into a suppressed smile. “In that case, insubordination should be punished. Can't have the rest thinking I'm playing favourites.”

Anspi'shel sidled closer. “More like _knowing beyond doubt_ , but sure.” 

“I don't believe in overt public humiliation,” Alilia continued. “But I think it's fair if you can't walk straight for the next day or two and your jaw is too sore to say anything but 'yes, ma'am'.” Anspi'shel shifted on the spot and whined as Alilia tickled the bottom of her chin. “So, Lieutenant, how am I going to get you there?”

Anspi'shel slid a hand up Alilia's shirt, grinning. “I've got an idea.”

They ended up naked, kneeling at the edge of the mattress facing the mirror covering the far wall. Anspi’shel positioned herself behind Alilia and met the brief turn of her head by shoving her tongue into her mouth. The scrape of blunt nails across a taut abdomen blended with the pinch of a nipple, intermingled with the sting of one lek entwined with one of hers, the tip of Anspi’shel’s _tchun_ squeezing in time with the speeding strokes of Alilia’s hand.

 _Fuck,_ she was wet. Straining her ears, Anspi’shel could swear she could hear the slickness. Alilia’s fingertips darted upwards to press her swollen clit and she rattled and moaned and Anspi’shel almost sobbed from sympathy, from the sheer envious want that throbbed between her own thighs.

“That’s not for me, sweetheart,” rasped Anspi’shel. She clasped a hand over Alilia’s, teeth grazing the side of her neck. “Sssh, it’s okay. I’m not _offended_. It’s for you. Yeah, that’s it, keep your eyes open, keep them there. You know how fucking beautiful you are - ”

“Get on your back, flygirl.”

Then Alilia turned and shoved her with a snarl, though Anspi’shel was already halfway down. She barely resisted the urge to rub off on Alilia’s leg. She may have babbled and clutched at nothing.

“Tell me what you want,” said Alilia, desire sparking bright in otherwise darkened eyes.

“What you want, anything, just, please - ”

“I’m going to sit on your face,” she declared, in that steady voice she used to issue commands. “Don’t touch yourself.”

How _could_ she? How could she bear to let go?

Anspi’shel’s lekku urgently twitched at the sides of Alilia’s thighs while she nuzzled her nose against her hard clit then sloppily dragged her tongue down her slit. Alilia's juices dripped onto her lips, over her chin. At the brink, she hissed and stroked Anspi’shel’s _tchun._  The parting pinch radiated a short blossom of pain exquisitely balanced with the burn of pleasure. Anspi’shel’s mouth fell open; a moan lodged in her throat, finally escaped as a soft squeak when Alilia began rutting in earnest, drew out deliberately as Alilia shouted in broken bursts and rode out her release for half a minute. Anspi'shel could’ve come with her - _explosively_ \- if not for determination to wait for permission.

“Good, good girl,” gasped Alilia, grinding her sopping cunt again, voice strained from overstimulation. Anspi’shel groaned in satisfaction. Alilia braced her fists against the mattress and it creaked under renewed vigour as her praise dipped into husky incoherence. 

Judging by Alilia's pace, she was unbearably turned on by Anspi'shel's increasingly vocalised enthusiasm. She laced their fingers together, rocking towards the next climax on her dancing tongue. This one was heralded with shallow gasps. It had barely crested when she lifted herself off Anspi'shel, and Anspi'shel didn't have time to mourn the loss of contact because Alilia was kissing her, licking the moisture around her lips.

Alilia paused, her face hovering inches above Anspi'shel's. 

 _“Vashna,”_ Anspi'shel moaned. She released the next word as a breath. “Alilia.”

Alilia cupped her cheek with one trembling hand. The other snaked between them to roughly massage Anspi'shel's mound - the sudden pressure shot straight to her untouched clit. It was too much, too little, too painfully perfect. Alilia's index finger grazed over the bundle of nerves, and Anspi'shel went rigid for the second time that night. 

Her vision had barely cleared when Alilia spat in the palm of her hand. She held it out for Anspi'shel to contribute, pointedly glancing downwards when Anspi'shel gaped. The gape turned into a weary grin. Oh, _hell._

Hours later, tangled in damp sheets and with each other, Anspi’shel skimmed her fingers down Alilia’s bare arm draped over her waist.

“You take care of you,” whispered Anspi’shel - an effort of tenderness, not just because she was hoarse from screaming and overworking her mouth. “I’ll take care of you, too.”

Alilia cracked one eye open. “My concept of self-care entails months of raiding mines around Anoat.”

“It _is_ healthy to have a hobby.”

She laughed as Alilia swatted her shoulder. With a soft pang of regret, Anspi'shel reflected that Ryloth was probably too hot for their taste, anyway.

* * *

  **Notes**

 

1 Twi'leks weren't the only species with a type of 'head-tails'. Chagrians had lethorn; Nautolans had head-tresses; Torgruta had montrals. Intraspecies head-tail communication was rare. Yet Force-blind members of all species frequently reported a 'large, heavy, buzzing' sensation in their head-tails when they encountered a site or motif of cultural significance, regardless of prior knowledge or exposure. These sensations were a manifestation of racial trauma, possibly intensified based on midi-chlorian count. Ancient human biologists had classified them as mundane facets of each species' physiology. The misconception persisted, and would continue to do so for several millennia. [return]

 

2 Ancient Twi'leks had adhered to a caste system, which some communities still followed. Twi'leks had also spread throughout the galaxy in a far-reaching and lengthy diaspora. As a result, modern Twi'leki consisted of several dialects of unequal mutual intelligibility. The species' disadvantaged status meant that translation tools were limited and unreliable. Alilia and Anspi'shel had been raised speaking different dialects, though they both understood the lekku language and standard Twi'leki, commonly known as 'Ryl'. Neither of them spoke Ryl fluently. [return]

 

3 Fresh out of her teens, Alilia had lost her home - not to a superweapon or invasion, but in a single White Maw raid. [return]

   

4 Had Alilia entered the room in a better state, she could explain that non-Twi’leks - especially humans - had abysmal knowledge of current Rylothian politics, much less their whole history. They didn’t understand the caste system or the existing power structures that had pervaded Twi’lek society for millennia. But she was too incensed and frustrated to string her thoughts into a coherent line. As usual. And it was time for Trick’s supper. Altogether, it was more therapeutic just to sing an old lullaby, or shoot something that deserved to be shot. [return]

 

5 No matter what Alilia did, she would feel reduced. Be steel, be fire, don't dwell - and they'd say she was in denial, she was pretending, she was something she wasn't 'supposed' to be, languishing in a state meant to be outgrown and forgotten. But be hopeful, fight for other Twi'leks, put them above herself as if the very act _was meant_ to create herself? She'd spent seven years playing a role to avoid being hurt even more. She wouldn't let the galaxy shoehorn her into another. There was only one Twi'lek asking her to change - indirectly, unwittingly - and that was already agonizing.  

All she wanted was to move on, on her own terms. The old gang members never talked about _before_. Anspi'shel hadn't treated her like she was fragile, or secretly fragile. In the White Maw, Alilia was the boss. Yet she was also powerful in a sense undefinable by hierarchy.  [return]

 

6 The lekku language's sign for 'love you'. [return]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Risha and like Akaavi, but their attitude towards Alilia [ is unfortunately canon](https://torcommunity.com/database/npc/VyOxY2H/0). (Click 'expand all'.) The unpleasant remarks don't come up with an f!Smuggler, and maybe not much with a non-flirtatious m!Smuggler; they're entirely avoided if Corso or Bowdaar are the active companion. But since I and much of the fandom judge Corso based on how he _can_ act, not just how he acts in the best possible scenario, I think the female characters should be held to the same standard. By that point in the storyline, all of them were written by the same (female) writer. 
> 
> I don't think it's OOC for either Risha or Akaavi. I do doubt that Risha would've forced Alilia to hurt Trick if she'd been in the Smuggler's position - I imagine it's easier for Risha to advocate ruthlessness when she's not the one who enacts it and she won't have to directly deal with the consequences.


	2. Chapter 2

Commander Miurani’aye’sev and Captain Siennh entered the empty conference room and took their usual seats at the big table set around a holoprojector.

“They better be half-decent this time,” griped Siennh. Niayes watched with amusement as the tips of Siennh's lekku twitched in open trepidation. “I’m not sitting through another lecture about economic ruin.”

Niayes' glowing red eyes blinked like signal lights in the dimness of the room. “I agree. Personal ruin is simply more interesting, isn't it?”

“Uh, duh?”

It was time to review potential allies from a pool of submissions and illicitly acquired vid footage, a bi-monthly practice adopted upon Raelen’s insistence shortly after the Outlanders' rescue from Zakuul. There was a vid from ex-Balmorran Resistance fighters offering to share their expertise. There was a recording from renegade Jedi hiding in the Outer Rim, appealing for sanctuary - that would be forwarded to Sana-Rae.

And at the end of the queue, there was a short clip of the White Maw fighting a scouting party of Zakuulan Skytroopers on Burnin Konn. Two Twi’leks led the charge. They were glances at each other between firing shots. Or, more accurately, ogling. Closer inspection revealed that the charged stares seemed timed with the rhythm of battle, coinciding with certain maneuvers and particularly impressive shots. 

“Oh,” Niayes and Siennh said, simultaneously.

Niayes pointed at one of the Twi’leks. “That's Anspi'shel, one of Kaliyo's exes. I saved her from being sold to a bounty hunter.”

Siennh pointed at the other. “That's Alilia. I put her in charge of her master's faction after I killed him. Guess she rose through the ranks.”

“And people say good deeds get punished.”

“I thought they usually do, in your line of work.”

“That’s true,” said Niayes, without missing a beat. She grabbed a datapad off a nearby stack. “Imperial Intelligence was slightly involved in Anspi'shel's case, but it _was_ more of a social call on Kaliyo's part.”

“Sooooo…”

“A sloppy revenge plot repaying what I believe was a charitable act.”

Nevertheless, Siennh glowed with rare satisfaction. “‘S nice that some things in the galaxy go right after all.”

Niayes consulted the White Maw's profile on the datapad. “They're wanted in twenty-seven systems for over five hundred different crimes.”

“Like I said,” insisted Siennh, watching as Niayes scrolled down the list. “They're mostly sticking it to big governments and rival gangs. With a couple of traffic violations.”

“'A couple'.”

“It's still triple-digits.”

Laughing, Niayes held up her free hand for a high-five just as Siennh lifted her fist for a fist-bump. Niayes clenched her hand. Siennh opened her fist. They settled for awkwardly shaking hands.

“I'll draft a propo- ” Niayes paused. “Unless you'd rather do it.”

Siennh shrugged. “Yeah, that’d probably be best.” Niayes handed over the datapad. Siennh rose, the tips of her lekku twitching in movements that her friend could vaguely identify as satisfaction. “I speak their language.”


End file.
